Hunter Turned Prey
by pacejunkie
Summary: The Devil is being strangely tight-lipped about the most recent escaped soul, forcing Sam to face his biggest challenge yet.


**Title:** Hunter Turned Prey

**Fandom:** Reaper

**Rating:** PG-13/T for violence

**Summary:** The Devil is being strangely tight-lipped about the most recent escaped soul, forcing Sam to face his biggest challenge yet.

**Word Count:** 4,252

**Disclaimer:** Reaper's not mine. We're just good friends.

* * *

The Devil's timing often had a certain comic quality, particularly when he showed up in Sam Oliver's bathroom. Fortunately, he caught Sam in a good mood. The Devil's bounty hunter had long stopped jumping at his boss' sudden appearances so he didn't even cut himself with the razor he held when the suited gentleman stepped out of Sam's shower stall.

"We have got to stop meeting like this," quipped Sam calmly as he shaved in the mirror.

The Devil would normally make some wisecrack in return but this time he just glared from over Sam's shoulder, grim as a thundercloud and not a hint of his winning smile. Sam put down the razor and washed the shaving cream off his face. His first thought was that he had done something to make the Devil angry and that was never a good thing. As evil as the prince of darkness was, he could usually be counted on to be upbeat. In fact, the only time Sam could recall him ever appearing down was last Halloween, when his workers had all taken a holiday.

Sam toweled off and turned to take in the Devil's scowl.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Another soul on the loose," he explained. "This one is giving me particular problems. I need you to catch him as soon as possible."

"Okay," said Sam, still confused over the Devil's demeanor, "would you care to help me out? Who was this guy in a former life?"

The Devil shook his head. Sam noticed that this time, he had no file, he wasn't taking Sam to look at any crime scenes and the Devil was looking at him oddly.

"That's not important," he said.

"Well give me something to work with," Sam insisted, as he moved to his bedroom to get dressed, "you know, the usual. What's his m.o.? Who are his victims? Is there a pattern?"

From the air the Devil produced a stack of photos. He tossed them on Sam's bed.

"These are the victims, but the pictures won't help you – they are seemingly random and from nine different states. Just catch him, the sooner the better," the Devil replied.

Sam was not averse to a little detective work but the Devil normally started him down some avenue first. He was usually provided with the basics – name, occupation, grudge. This time, the Devil was being particularly cagey and there seemed to be no reason for it. It was downright illogical since Sam was being told this was an important catch. If the Devil needed the job done he wasn't making it easy. Sam knew that he had asked for independence often enough to prove himself but this was taking things a bit too far.

"What's your problem?" Sam asked, annoyed, scooping up the pictures and flipping through them. When he did he flinched. They all looked like they had been filleted by a sushi chef. "Yeah, it's nasty but why are you being so mysterious?"

When the Devil continued to frown, Sam's mind worked to connect the dots. "There's something about this soul isn't there? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were scared of him."

"Of course not," said the Devil. "He's a murderer who belongs in hell, nothing more."

"But they're all murderers, so why should this one be any different?" Sam asked as he dropped the photos back down and buttoned his shirt, wondering to himself. "Who is this guy?"

"You're wasting time Sam," he said, ending the debate and pointing to a box that suddenly appeared on the bureau. "There's your vessel."

Sam went over to the container and opened it. Reaching in, he removed an ornate silver sword, like something out of Middle Earth, longer than his arm. The vessels were usually containers of some kind, not weapons. The only time he had been given an actual weapon was when he was being set up to catch the cop and almost landed in prison for a murder he didn't commit.

"Don't be afraid to use it," said the Devil.

Sam hefted the sword in his hand, feeling its significant weight. Did the Devil expect him to duel, actually fight with this thing? Then he turned, remembering one more question he needed to ask.

"Where am I supposed to find him?" he said.

But the Devil was already gone.

* * *

"Well that was weird," said Ben.

Sam was at the Work Bench. He had just finished telling Sock and Ben about the bizarre encounter with the Devil that morning. Their boss Ted had split their shifts up as a punishment for using the slushee machine to make margaritas, so both of Sam's friends had worked earlier shifts and were gone from the apartment they shared by the time Sam had gotten up. Now they were both off the clock but hanging out anyway, keeping Sam company as he finished his late shift. Sock was testing out the vessel, swinging and jabbing like a musketeer.

"Man, your job keeps getting cooler and cooler," Sock gushed.

"Will you stop being jealous of me, please?" said Sam. "I'm telling you there's something strange about this soul. The Devil wouldn't even tell me where to start looking for the guy, and yet I'm supposed to find him and catch him like, yesterday. Does that make sense?"

"Maybe he's just toying with you," Ben suggested.

"Nah, he usually looks like he's enjoying himself when he does that," said Sam, shaking his head. "This was like… it was like he was bringing me bad news or something. Either that or he and this soul have some major history."

"Maybe the dude killed Satan's cat," said Sock.

Once again, Sam flipped through the grisly photos that the Devil had given him. There were names and cities printed on the back of each one but a computer search earlier that day had produced nothing.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged, "I checked these victims out and I can't find a common thread. They were different races, genders, ages, from all different professions. They didn't even live near each other. Why does the Devil expect me to find the soul in Seattle?"

On the back of one photo Sam had listed the deaths in chronological order along with their locations, hoping to see some sort of trail, but the soul seemed to be travelling all over the country haphazardly, in no particular direction. Not only that, but some of the deaths were so close in time yet so far geographically, Sam wasn't even sure how the soul was getting around. It was just like the Devil had said; nothing about this information gave him any hint of the soul's next victim, so Sam still didn't know where to start.

Giving up on the puzzle for now, Sam sighed and took the sword back from Sock, turning it to admire the engravings on the shaft. "I just know I'm going to have a hard time carrying this thing around with me everywhere. I sure hope it's nearby when the guy decides to show up."

* * *

His shift finally came to an end at 11:00pm and Sam clocked out. Andi was finishing up too, counting up the register and collecting the day's deposits.

"Andi, if you're done I can walk you to your car," Sam offered, knowing how she hated the empty parking lot at night.

"Yeah Sam, thanks. I'll just be a minute," she said.

While he waited for her, Sam went back to the break room and retrieved the box holding the vessel. Then he turned to both Sock and Ben.

"Guys, I'm taking Andi to her car, would you lock up for me?" he asked.

"Sure no problem lover boy," said Sock. "You gonna try a little something in the dark?"

"No, I told you, Andi and I can't be involved. It's too risky for her. I'm just being a friend."

"What if she asks you what that is?" asked Ben, pointing to the cask Sam held.

Sam looked down at the large wooden box in his arms as though he had just remembered it. "Oh yeah, Ben, put this in my trunk. Wait for me there and I'll take you guys home."

Ben took the case and Sam went back to meet Andi, who was waiting at the front entrance.

"Thanks for walking with me, Sam," said Andi as they crossed the empty parking lot. "These big lots are creepy at night. I jump at everything."

"No problem," said Sam. "Are you coming out with us to the Brick tomorrow night? Sock's gonna try and break his Jello shot record. Good family entertainment as long as he doesn't throw up."

Andi laughed. "Yeah, and I asked Josie to come too. You know I really think she and Sock are getting over their problems. Last time they were actually cordial to each other."

Sam smiled, "That's progress." He stopped when they reached her car and Andi pulled out her keys. "Well, I'll see you…"

Sam's words were cut short by an apparition that seemed to materialize right before his eyes, though he looked more like he had crawled out of the ground. It was a man, with a scarred face, matted hair, rotting teeth and wild eyes. Sam didn't have time to register much else because the instant he appeared, the man spoke in a gravelly harsh tone.

"The hunter turns prey."

Sam caught a glimpse of a handful of gleaming knives in place of fingers, each ten inches long or more, flying through the air. Before Sam could even react the man slashed and plunged his claws deep into Sam's side. Sam still carried his look of surprise when he gasped and his knees buckled. As Andi screamed, the man vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Sam! Oh my God! SAM!" cried Andi, as Sam collapsed against her and they both sank to the ground. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!"

Blood streamed from five separate wounds, soaking Sam's shirt in seconds. Andi cradled Sam's head and continued calling out for help. Lifting his head slightly, Sam tried to look down. His mouth moved to form words but no sound came out. Then he fell back again into Andi's arms. His eyes were rolling upwards, lids slowly closing.

"No, no, no Sam, wake up. Wake up," she pleaded before calling out again for aid.

Ben and Sock were just locking the front door when they heard Andi in hysterics from the back of the parking lot. Leaving the vessel on the ground, they ran as fast as they could and stopped short at the sight of their friends on the asphalt under the glow of the light pole.

"Sock, call 911," said Ben, taking off his jacket to press it against the wounds and slow the bleeding. Sam twitched once and then stopped moving altogether. Sock took out his phone and dialed, staring in shock at his friend.

"There's so much blood," cried Andi.

"It's okay," said Ben. "He's gonna be okay. Who did this?"

"I don't know, it happened so fast," she said as she held Sam in her lap, a hand on his cheek. "There was a guy with a knife. He must have been hiding behind my car because one minute we were alone and the next he was just there."

"Did you see which way he went?" asked Ben.

"No, it was like he just disappeared," said Andi, tears running down her cheeks. "Or maybe I was just focused on Sam and I didn't notice. I don't know. I'm sorry."

Ben put one hand on Andi's shoulder to calm her and exchanged a look with Sock. Sock put the phone back in his pocket and knelt down beside his friends. He looked ghostly from fright.

"There's an ambulance on the way," he leaned closer to Sam, who now appeared to be completely unconscious, and called out, "Do you hear that Sam? Help is coming. Stay with us, buddy. You can't die, you're Batman. You're Batman."

* * *

It was twelve hours before they knew for sure that Sam was going to make it. He was in need of blood and Andi was a match so she willingly donated. Afterwards the three friends hung around the waiting room until mid-morning waiting for word, each expressing their anxiety in a different way: Ben paced the room like an expectant father; Andi sat perfectly still, staring off into space; while Sock wandered the floor, dropping coins into every vending machine he could find, eating nervously.

When the doctor finally emerged, he said it had been a close call and Sam would be in the hospital for several more days, but that he was going to be okay. By noon, they were allowed to see him. He was still receiving blood through a tube along with a morphine drip. Looking chalky and exhausted, Sam lay very still but opened his eyes when Andi, Sock and Ben came in.

"Legal access to narcotics, you lucky dog," said Sock.

Sam gave a drugged, half-smile. Andi bent over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hey you," she said, squeezing his hand.

"Hey," Sam drawled in a hoarse whisper. "Am I alive?"

"Are you kidding, you're not getting rid of us that easy," said Sock. "You even got some of Andi's blood in you now so that makes you brother and sister."

Sam looked at Andi. "Really? You did that?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "I just knew we were compatible."

"How're you feeling Sam?" asked Ben.

"Hurts when I move… breathe… "

"It'll get better soon," said Andi. "The doctor said you're going to be here for the next few days."

Her words got Sam's attention, and he shared a furtive glance with Sock and Ben. "Andi, would you mind calling Steve and Tony… and asking them to bring me some things from home?"

He gave her a short list of necessities and Andi went out into the lobby where she could use her cell phone to make the call. Once she was gone, Sam was free to talk with the others about what had really happened in the parking lot.

"Did Andi tell you what she saw?" he asked them.

"She said it looked like a guy with a knife that stabbed you and then took off," said Ben.

"He took off all right," said Sam, "right into thin air. It was the soul, but…there's something… different about this one."

"Yeah, he tried to serve you up as shish kabob," said Sock.

"No, I mean it wasn't right," Sam explained, slurring and drowsy, "The souls… they usually run from me. They only attack when they're cornered. But this guy… I wasn't after him. He just came out of nowhere and stabbed me. And… he said something too."

"What'd he say?" asked Sock.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to remember the exact words through a haze of pain meds. "He said, 'the hunter turns prey'."

"What does that mean?" asked Ben.

"I don't know but… it was like he was gunning for me… like I was one of his victims."

"Maybe you were, Sam," said Ben. "Didn't Steve say that there were other reapers besides you? Maybe this guy is out to kill reapers. The hunter would be you."

Sam wanted to talk about it some more but the painkillers were knocking him out. Sock and Ben could tell he needed to rest so they left for a bit and Sam thought on Ben's words until he fell asleep. All those people from the photos that had been ripped apart – could they have been bounty hunters for the Devil like Sam? Was that the connection?

* * *

When he woke again it was nighttime and his friends had all gone. The lights had been turned down low but Sam wasn't alone. The Devil was seated comfortably at his bedside, staring quietly, watching Sam with intense regard as if he were keeping a vigil.

"How long have you been there?" Sam asked.

"I only just arrived," he lied.

"I want to know about this soul," Sam said, not wasting any time while he had him there, "the truth this time."

"These days he calls himself the Hyena," said the Devil. "I was telling the truth when I said it didn't matter what he did in life. He's made it his purpose in death to kill bounty hunters, as many as he can, so more escaped souls can roam free. Before he broke out he stole a stack of files with information about each reaper. Your file was among them. He's killed nine already. You would have been the tenth," the Devil said without a hint of pleasure.

Now Sam knew why this soul was so troublesome. An attack on his property was an attack on the Devil himself. Sam was surprised he didn't declare war on this soul. He was about to ask why the Devil didn't go after this one himself when instead another question occurred to him.

"There are other reapers out there besides me?"

"What, do you think that every condemned soul comes from Seattle?" said the Devil, "I have reapers in every city, and they're getting picked off one by one."

"Why didn't you tell me that the soul was killing reapers?" Sam asked.

"I didn't want to distract you from your purpose. If you were scared, you might have hesitated or avoided him, and I needed him captured."

Sam looked at him for a long time.

"You didn't want to worry me," he muttered.

The Devil leaned closer as though he hadn't heard him correctly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"That's why this soul was freaking you out so much," said Sam. "You didn't want him to kill me."

"Of course not Sam," he replied, straightening up and pulling on his tie. "I need reapers. I can't continue to do business if some bastard is going around killing them all."

"No, I think it's more than that," said Sam. "Why are you here anyway? Do you sit at the bedside of every injured reaper? Maybe you care about what happens to me more than you'll admit."

"Nonsense," he said, rising from his chair. "Remember who you're talking to. I'm not your Uncle. I'm the Devil. Concern is weakness, a useless emotion, just like love."

"Whatever you say," said Sam, closing his eyes. He was getting tired again and really didn't have the strength to argue.

"I'll tell you why I'm here," he said. "Unfortunately you don't have time to convalesce. More reapers are dying every day and he failed with you. The man is an obsessive-compulsive with an ego – a dangerous combination. He's going to come back and try to finish what he started. You need to be ready for him when he does."

When Sam opened his eyes again the Devil was gone and in his place on the chair was the box containing the vessel.

* * *

"The Devil said the soul's coming back for me," Sam told Sock and Ben the next day. He was slightly more clear-headed today but was still flat on his back and could barely move. "How am I gonna capture him like this?"

"Just because you can't appear out of nowhere doesn't mean you don't have the element of surprise on your side," said Sock. "If you're gonna be the bait then let's set the trap."

Sock opened the case and handed Sam the sword. Sam took it with both hands and laid it flat beside him. Then he tried picking it up and thrusting with it but it was too heavy from his position. When he tried to sit up to gain some leverage his stitches protested and he groaned.

"It's no good," said Sam, hissing through his teeth and dropping the sword heavily back down, "I can't do it."

"You just need to be holding the vessel for it to work right?" asked Ben, examining the weapon.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah," said Sam, "But since this vessel's a sword, I think I have to stab him with it."

As Ben was thinking, Sock asked, "Wait, how do we know when the soul's going to show up again?"

"I think he would have come last night but he stayed away because the Devil was here," said Sam. "Maybe that's what he was really doing here -- standing guard over me until I was ready to take the soul on, not that he'd ever admit that. So if I'm right, it means the soul will make his move tonight, probably late like he did the first time."

"We don't want to scare him away either, so it would be better if it looked like you were alone," said Ben. "I have an idea."

Later that evening, Ben and Sock returned and took up position underneath Sam's bed, concealed by extra blankets that hung down the sides to the floor. The sword lay between them at the ready, since they didn't know which side the Hyena might show up on, and they would only get one shot.

"Don't forget guys," Sam called down from the bed, "he starts talking as soon as he appears. Get him when he's distracted."

"I'm getting him as soon as I see feet," said Sock.

"Just don't stab the nurse," Sam cautioned.

"We're on it Sam," said Ben. "You just do your job and pretend to be asleep."

"Ben, get your hand off my leg," Sock joked.

"Shut up, man," said Ben.

They waited for two hours, and Sam almost did fall asleep. At one point he dozed off and jerked awake when he heard a noise and the bed shook, but it was just his friends changing position on the cold floor below.

"You guys all right down there?" he whispered.

"Fine," groaned Ben, "I just wish he'd get here already."

"Thanks Ben," said Sam.

"Oh…well, you know what I mean," Ben replied.

Sam knew. Simply waiting around to be attacked was its own kind of torture. Suddenly there was a sound so faint that it could easily have been mistaken for a feeling, but Sam froze. It sounded like a gentle breeze, or something moving through still air. He felt a chill.

"Do you hear that?" Sam asked them.

"Hear what?" asked Sock.

Before Sam could answer he was there, casting a shadow over him, teeth bared. Sam quickly shut his eyes and tensed in his mangy presence. He needed the vessel.

"The hunter tur…"

The Hyena barely got the sentence out. He had one hand raised for the killing blow when Ben popped out from under the bed and ran the soul through the chest with the sword. Sam opened his eyes. The shining scimitar protruded out of the madman's back. Then Ben passed the handle to Sam who quickly grasped it and held on.

"How does it feel?" Sam asked the Hyena, surprised at how angry he felt.

Sam held steady, both hands on the hilt. The vessel shook, pain exploding in Sam's chest as the soul writhed around the steel. It seemed to go on forever. Sock crawled out from his own hiding place to join his friends, keeping one eye on Sam who was straining from the effort. The soul fought and hollered a high pitched wail until the vessel began to glow a brilliant light like flame and he was sucked inside. As quickly as it had begun it stopped; the vessel was just a sword once more and the Hyena was gone. He had been contained, and he was ready to go back where he belonged, where Sam was certain the Devil had a special place waiting for him.

Sam dropped the sword and collapsed back on the bed.

"Ow," he said, clutching his side, eyes screwed tight, "just… ow."

"You did it Sammy," said Sock, slapping him on the shoulder.

"We did it," Sam replied, catching his breath, "great shot Ben."

But Ben looked slightly green. He swayed a bit and sank onto the end of the bed. "I think I need to sit down," he said.

"You are sitting down," Sock noted.

"Ben you stabbed him," said Sam, impressed.

"Yeah, I know," he replied with a hollow voice.

"Will you take the vessel down to the DMV for me?" Sam asked him. "I think you earned it."

Ben nodded, still dazed. It wasn't exactly like killing someone; the soul was already dead. But Ben had felt the sword slice clean through the Hyena's body like he was real. The only difference was that strangely there was no blood, but still Ben never thought he would come so close to taking a life. He felt a sick twist in his stomach.

"You okay Benjy?" asked Sock. "You look like you're gonna toss."

"I'm all right," Ben said, staring off into space. "I just need a minute."

"You saved my life guys," said Sam, "twice now. Thanks, you really went to bat on this one. I couldn't have done it without you."

The Devil needn't have worried. His soul may have had a reservation in hell, but with his posse Sam wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. They didn't look like much – three ordinary young men barely out of their childhoods, not particularly strong, clever or responsible, working in the same dead end jobs since high school. On their own, they had accomplished little in life, and their prospects for the future were even fewer.

But somehow, together, they were mighty.


End file.
